Chapter 18 Chapter Seventeen

After my night of the dead at Quesetti's house, I organized a trip with my whole family and Quesetti.Emma likes to spend time in Zurich, so all I needed to shed a few tears and make her feel bad about what happened to me was to convince her to accept my offer to go to Zurich with me on a private jet.She accepted my offer even though she could have taken a regular flight by herself, which would save her some money.Emmarie, like most rich people, was quite proud of her pennies. After that incident, the police didn't bother us, but they didn't ask for anything.The police interrogated the arrested thugs and asked who they were working for, but he just laughed and didn't answer.The firm was delighted to see that I was going to Europe for a good vacation, and was happy to let me use the firm's private jet membership card to fly to London to do some non-essential legal work.I didn't tell them I was going to visit Buschrow's heir.

I also went to Paul and had a good talk with him about the fact that I had killed someone.I wanted to cry, but luckily the anti-anxiety medication helped me so I didn't.Paul offered to go to London with me, as he put it, to help me look after my head and tail.Sometimes, like this moment, I really feel that my brother really loves me.The driver, Omar, also wanted to go with me, but his name was still on the terrorist watch list, so it was inconvenient to cross the border, so he gave up, but he said he would pray for me. We picked up Quesetti early the next morning to make sure he had copies of the encrypted letters, just in case.He said the original copy of the letter was with a trusted friend who worked at the New York City Public Library and had locked the letter in a safe.here you go.We met up with the others at Teideboro Airport.When I was waiting, I was so nervous that I couldn't do it anymore. I met another bastard who cursed at his own phone, so I stepped forward and smashed his phone. This move also won the unanimous support of the passengers in the waiting room.But Emmarie looked rather disgusted when she saw me doing it.what happened again?I talked to her on the plane and yelled at her; she had a lot of tears, emotional ups and downs, and worst of all, her contempt for me, which I couldn't stand, so I went to the back of the plane and took Que. Seti moved from his seat so I could talk to Paul.

We discussed our strategy once we arrived in the UK.He thinks the whole thing is a hoax and that what we're doing in the UK should be meaningless.I think he's right, of course it's a hoax, isn't it? We landed and drove to London in a limousine provided by Osborne Security Systems, the same security company Paul used to work for.The driver's name is Brown, and he is a field officer of the security company.Paul said this Mr. Brown was an ex-British Airborne Special Service ambush master.I don't remember much about him, he's very thin and kind of looks like a weasel.At the hotel I drank too much, felt bad, and went to bed.Waking up the next morning with a splitting headache, tongue full of rancidity, and dry mouth, only to see my brother in his priestly attire and say we're leaving soon.Apparently his security team saw some bad guys and we gotta get rid of them.Pick up Quesetti first after setting off, he looks like he turned into an unfriendly jerk overnight.On the way to Oxford, he didn't even behave like a well-bred, civilized man.

I seemed to doze off, but when Paul described what he had found in some church in the Old City, I woke up immediately.He thinks that board is what Brace Godo used to decode it, and I thought that was a great discovery, but frankly, it didn't interest me much at that moment.I am a person who likes a stable life. Sitting in a car in a foreign country does not attract me at all.Having said that, I noticed a twinkle in the little Quesetti's eyes, and probably would have fallen asleep again if Paul hadn't mentioned later that the board had been taken by a young woman.Who else could it be?Quisetti said it might be Caroline.Lori, but I don't think so. This crime is marked by Miranda's signature inside and out: naive tricks, defrauding the lonely monk's trust, quick modus operandi, and a violent finish.Definitely Miranda.I didn't even bother to argue with him.I figured we'd have the code, so she'd come to us with the decoder board, and I remember looking forward with rare anticipation, like a kid at a carnival.

It was almost noon when I reached the outskirts of Oxford, and I was hungry.Paul said we were going to a country club with Oliver.Meet with Mr. Horse District.At this point Brown began to drive like a maniac, swerving abruptly across the four lanes of Highway Forty before finally pulling onto the interchange and turning onto a local road after a while, just west of Oxford. Asked by Quese if he was trying to get rid of a group of stalkers, Brown replied: No, just one.Brown, who was driving, seemed to be enjoying the ride, and maybe he was enjoying my growing discomfort, too, as we roared down the bumpy back road, with a lot of steam and mud rolling up from the rear of the car.

After a sharp up-and-down turn, we entered a farm trail, and Brown parked, jumped out the door, opened the trunk, and hauled out a long black nylon bag.I got out of the car too and staggered toward a low fence, feeling like throwing up all the time.I heard a car approaching us, I looked in the direction of the sound, and saw Brown standing under a willow tree by the roadside, holding a foreign-made rifle, and aiming at the road through the branches of the tree .A blue BMW sped toward him, and he fired at a distance of about a hundred yards. The other car's engine made a very high-pitched noise, and it came to a stop around a corner, with smoke billowing from the roof.Brown put the rifle back in his pocket and noticed that I was standing with my eyes wide open and a handkerchief over my mouth.

How are you, sir?he asks. I am fine.Did you just shoot someone? No, sir, only the car.This is a powerful sniper rifle, perfect for stopping enemy vehicles from advancing.Father Paul's meeting needs a little privacy. I stared at him, but he grabbed my elbow and said: Sir, it's time for us to get back to the car. I obediently got into the car, and we drove along a few small roads until we arrived at a perfect English village whose name I forgot, is it called Smiley the Fool?Or a dwarf dork?Anyway, a name like that.We parked in the backyard of a small hotel with the look you see on the cover of a biscuit box: thatched roof, Tudor beams, heavy latticed windows glowing purple.It's a place that old man Bryce Godou would often come to for a pint of Malmsey.A group of us walked in, and only Brown waited by the car, talking on a wireless phone.

It was dark and warm inside, with a fire in the fireplace.A muscular man with an ugly sideburn stood behind the bar.He nodded when he saw us, and gestured for us to go to the other side, where there was a door.Through the door there is a small room with a gas stove and an old round table inside.Sitting at the table was a thin, handsome man, who appeared to be in his late sixties, wearing a duffel jacket, a dark checked shirt with a light base, and a black wool tie.He stood up when we walked in, and we all sat down after introductions and handshakes.He is Oliver.The horse is gone, Bustrow's partner.The meeting confirmed that Paul was organizing the trip, but I didn't care.I felt like one of those big black sacks full of chemical raw materials that are often seen on large flat-bottomed boats in the port, lifeless and heavy, being dragged along by ropes.

After talking about something innocuous, Ma District said: Secret meeting, right?Everything feels so weird.when was the last time you saw your father, and Hearing his words, I immediately gave Paul a rude look.Professor March continued: "Father Mishkin, if it wasn't for your suggestion, I should not have agreed to meet with you at such an inconvenient place. The police did not clarify the cause of Andrew's death." That was the first time I heard of Paul being involved in the Bustrow case.Paul began to explain, and I listened with interest, yes, I didn't make it clear.They found a drugged gay boy prostitute named Chico.Gaza, he used your friend Bustrow's credit card, and they used coercion to get his confession, but the boy had nothing to do with Bustrow's death.

Is there any evidence? Well, first of all, I visited the kid in prison, and he said that he was sleeping in the house where the murder happened, and when he woke up, Buszjo's wallet was already in his bag.He had never met Buschro, and he had been cleverly set up in this murder.The police found Chico in Busch's apartment.The suspicious trail left by Gaza, all of this was prepared in advance.Another, more convincing reason is that no one other than my brother and his secretary knew that Buszrow had deposited Brace Godo's papers at the law firm, but in the days after the murder, it was He was being followed by Russian gangsters, how did they know?The news must have been dug out from your boyfriend.

The word dig echoed in the air, and Ma Qu quickly closed his eyes.At this moment, all I had on my mind was this: When Shavnov told me how he was interested in me, he had mentioned the sources, but I didn't press further.The gangster has sources of course, and people will tell him all kinds of things, or they'll try to get people to talk, or Shavnov is lying and he's the abuser himself. (Again, hindsight. When you calm down and detach from the event itself, the outlines of the event are surprisingly clear, but when they occur, they are surrounded by layers of fog. We are very good at denying those who are right under our noses What happened below.) A waitress from the bar walked in just at that moment.She brought our wine order, food, and left without joking with us.March said: I didn't see that Buszrow was involved with the Russian gang, I mean, I was confused. He needed a sum of money to verify the authenticity of the manuscripts, and I said: If those manuscripts are real, then you can follow the line to find the original script that Brace Godo mentioned. Sorry to interrupt you, who is Bryce Gradou?Ma District asked.All three of us stared at him in surprise, and Quesetti blurted out: Didn't Bustreau tell you why he came to England last summer? He only said that he was going to do research, he was always researching this and that, who is this Brace Godou? I recapped the whole thing, and the barmaid came in just as I was talking.Ma District listened carefully and asked some questions.After I finished speaking, he shook his head regretfully. It has been nearly 30 years since Bustrall and I got along. He said: We will openly talk about each other's lives to a certain extent, I mean talk about the researcher But I must say, I really don't know anything about this.He kept it from me, that's for sure, after all the horrible disasters he's been through, but still it doesn't solve the original question, if he needs funds, why doesn't he come to me? are you richI asked. Oh no, but I have some assets, some property, inherited.I think I can raise around a hundred thousand without reducing myself to begging, does he need more money? If you're talking £100,000, that's enough.We don't know.He probably took over $20,000 from the Russians. My goodness!Then it doesn't make sense, why didn't he come to me? I said: Maybe he was too embarrassed to come to you because of that scandal, I mentioned Mitch.Haas also asked the same question, and when I said the name, I was surprised to find a trace of hostility in March's gentle face. Oh, of course he couldn't go to Haas, he said, Haas hated him. How dare you say that!I vehemently retort that they are friends, and Mitch was one of the few people in the academic circle who supported him when the falsification of historical documents broke out last time.He was the one who gave him a job at Columbia University when no one wanted him. I thought Haas was a good friend of yours.Horse District said. Yes, he is, he is my oldest friend, and he is also the most honest and generous person I know.How could Bustrow think that Mickey hated him? Didn't that mean that? Marcus suddenly said: more than 20 years ago, Haas published a book discussing Shakespeare's women, that is, the female characters in the play.The book argues that Shakespeare's promotion as an original genius was only fueled by the toxic individualism of middle-class culture at the time.I remember him saying that Macbeth was, at best, a story about three wizards and a bunch of crap.After the book was published, Bustrow accepted a request from Time Magazine Literary Supplement to review the book.He lashed out at the book as it should have been.Not only does he point out the holes in the logic and scholarship of the book, but he also suggests that, judging from Haas's earlier work, he wrote this hodgepodge only to cater to Marxists, feminists, and others. People who haven't been able to master it yet, as far as I know, these people are teaching at universities.Not that I know much about these, I'm just a simple biologist.Bustreau fits me very well, probably because we are not competitors, and the two just complement each other's strengths.He used to read something to me at night.Then, of course, came the terrible scandal, the angry letters to the College, the lengthy articles in the various periodicals, and everything was ruined.Happy days don't last long.Bustrow's reputation was completely discredited because of the hot debate that damned Haas started, and after that, the job.What I remember is that the two of us didn't talk about the previous academic feud, we both thought we should forget about it, it was just an exchange of opinions that often happens in academic debates.But that incident didn't pass, and Haas had been tormenting Buscher almost since he first arrived in New York.What started out as verbal sarcasm mixed with a certain haughty American humor got worse, and his authoritarian behavior for example? Oh, he promised a Shakespeare seminar and a graduate class for Bustrow, but Bustrow got a freshman composition class that was like asking a brain surgeon to tidy up a ward , Wipe away the blood stains, and empty the basin.When he complained about the exasperating measure, Haas said he was lucky enough not to be living on unemployment benefits or selling watches on the street.Bustrall called to tell me the horror, and of course I asked him to tell Haas to stop playing and come home right away.But he didn't, I guess he thought it was redemption, to make up for his academic sins.And I know it's kind of weird to say that, as if Bustrow was in some kind of paranoia, he told me that Haas also tortured him in other, more insidious ways: his paycheck was missing; his briefcase or his room Some small things in the office disappeared; someone changed the lock in his office; when he went to work one day, he found his things in the hallway, and his office was taken by someone else without notifying him in advance; He went to a certain classroom to attend class, but the class location was secretly transferred to the other side of the campus. He had to rush to class in the hot summer.He suffered a lot from the heat during those horrible New York summers.And his air conditioner keeps breaking He blamed that on Mickey too?I say it mercilessly. right.I know what you're thinking, and I admit I did, is he crazy?But the evidence leads me to believe, I mean the horrific details all add up, is it possible that he made it up himself?I don't think it's possible, it can't all be the figment of poor Bustrow, who we used to laugh at for having no imagination at all.What I'm going to say next is what I saw when he came back last August. Here he stopped and drank his beer.I see his eyes get wet and I strongly hope he doesn't break down over poor Buschul.I drank some more wine, a third glass. It's hard to describe, he was manic and frightened, and there was a young woman who followed him and insisted on staying at our house, even though there were well-appointed hotels in the immediate area, but she wouldn't. Caroline.Lori.Quesetti interjected. Yes, I believe that's her name, she helped him with his research Did he mention which study it was?Paul asked. No, I didn't mention it, but he said that it was the most important discovery in the history of Shakespeare's academic research, and it was extremely confidential, as if he was afraid that I would leak the secret.They often go out for activities. He seems to have a lot of money. He rents a car to go out, stays out for a few days, and then returns with excitement.He did say one thing, he was testing the authenticity of an ancient manuscript, and he couldn't let others know, that's why Miss Lori followed him.All I know is that they did use technological tools to check and then set off for Warwickshire. Do you know where it is in Warwickshire?I asked. Yes, I saw a message from Miss Lori saying they were visiting Dutton Hall.Bus-joo later returns alone, looking downcast and more terrified.I asked him where Miss Lori was, but he put me off by saying she was away doing research.I don't believe it, I thought the two of them probably had a fight.In any case, he was a completely changed man, insisting on keeping all the curtains down, and walking about the house at night with a pair of pokers and lighting dark corners with a torch.I begged him to tell me what happened, but all he said was that I better not know. Quesetti asked about Luo Li's condition, did she return to the United States with Buszrow?Horse District does not know.That's pretty much the end of the meeting.We repeatedly assured the March professor that Bustrow's personal belongings would be sent to him, and that someone would handle the issue of the deceased's will, and then we left. Back in the car, we had a little disagreement about what to do next.Paul thought we should go ahead with our original plan, following Bustrow's trail, which meant visiting Dutton Hall in Warwickshire.But Quesetti objected, saying that Bustreau didn't seem to find anything there, so can we do better than the experts?He thinks it's time to investigate the houses of March and Busch, and look at the documents that March mentioned.I found that he was far more interested in finding Miss Lori than finding the treasure. He replied that it was because Lori was the source and key to the whole incident. Also includes stolen Katanga.We thought about it for a long time, and I grew impatient, of course, because I knew that it was Miranda who stole Katange!Until Brown reminded us that there were other bad guys on the road, asking locals if they had seen a Mercedes stretch limousine.There aren't that many streets in the Oxfordshire countryside, which means they'll be right behind us. Paul suggested that Quesetti find a hotel to stay and then go over the documents of the March district, and the March district did not object to this plan, so we left Quesetti to stay with him.I breathed a sigh of relief because that Quesetti guy was making me more and more angry. When Brown drove us out of the bar, I mentioned this to Paul, who I didn't like, and I said: a typical outsider, a bumbling, script writer, God!Totally untrustworthy, I really don't know what I was thinking when I asked him to go on the road with him. You should pay more attention to those who make you angry.Paul said. What's the meaning? Oh, I think you understand. It's kind of annoying when he speaks in this confident tone, like a voice from a cloud. I don't know, I wish I knew why, or have you been given the ability to read minds? Well, can you imagine another outsider, an old poser, an actor by trade instead of a playwright?But he has no Quesetti happy family, no loving mother, no heroic father What, you thought I'd be jealous of him?Do you think I look like him? This is a man who decides to live a stable life, go to law school instead of trying something he really wants to do, and when he sees a kid with a loving, loving family, he takes the courage to follow his dream nonsense I don't.Also, just before you wrecked the hotel bar and left the bartender lying in the hospital, you accused him of trying to seduce your wife when in fact you encouraged him to do so. I don't do this kind of thing.I will respond right away. I know you thought you didn't, but you did, have you had this type of amnesia before? Oh, thank you so much!I'm sure you have an Alcoholics Anonymous group in the basement of your church that I could join right away. You drink too much.Maybe you're not drunk yet, but three pints of British beer in half a day is still too much. I am an adult.I said, softening a little, as it all came flooding back, fragments of terrible memories.I'm not usually an alcoholic. Let him die. We arrived at Dutton Hall in the drizzle around four o'clock in the afternoon.This is a high latitude area, and the short autumn day is almost over, and the headlights of the cars along the way illuminate the large dark leaves in front of us.It was recently taken over by the National Trust, the British civic organization that protects historic sites with private donations.It was donated after the death of the last Baron Reith in 1999, and it is still being repaired and has not yet been opened to the public.We had contacted a local childcare worker in advance, Miss Randolph. The place is crumbling, like something out of a horror movie.The architectural style is based on the James I period, and several side halls are built in the Georgian style.We met a worker driving a small tractor just in front of the building, and he took us to the former entrance for servants.The door was opened by a stocky woman of about forty, with a pair of glasses and a standard British look. She was wearing a thick tweed skirt and a two-piece cardigan sweater.The room she took us into was freezing cold, and a small electric heater sizzled hard, but to no avail.She explained that it was the former housekeeper's office, the only habitable room in the house, and her working headquarters. She asked if we could help.I said: We're here to meet the vampire Duke Dracula.She grins, and replies with a standard accent: Yes, everyone says that, or some say they're here for Frankenstein.Everyone watches too many horror novels and movies.But I guess in the midst of all that nonsense, there's some truth to it, and you know that.I think even in the 19th century people still believed that since someone had the ability to build these buildings, they should be able to live forever.The writers didn't think that was right, so they built the story up with some horrible plots. So what are the horrible plots in this building? Oh, it was originally a charity hospital run by a group of St. Benedict nuns, and Lord Dumbarton took it for himself with the consent of Henry VIII. Of course, the nuns objected to the Baron.After that, the Dumbarton family made a lot of money from the sugar and slave trade, which was used to build Georgian buildings, and then owned coal mines and gas, as well as the urban estates of Nottingham and Coventry.They have never done a solid job and lived like an emperor for a day in their lives, but What's wrong?Paul asked her. hard to explain.Come with me and I'll show you something. We followed her out of the office, down a dark passage lit only by fifteen-watt bulbs in candlesticks along the walls.This damp and cold passage is as cold as a tomb. In comparison, the cold air in the room just now is quite warm, and it is easy to fall into the atmosphere of a Gothic novel.We go through a door and she flips a lighted switch.I gasp. This was the Jacobean dining room, which later became the breakfast room.There is faux linen veneer paneling in walnut, considered the finest work of craftsmanship in the Midlands of England, not to mention the carvings on the sideboards, and the built-in parquet floor.Look at those detailed carvings!This is the ultimate craftsmanship of British craftsmen, and the owners of these items are a group of thugs who can't even tell the difference between wainscoting and sheep washing potion.Why do craftsmen devote all their energy to walnut wood furniture?is love.I respect their intentions, which is why I want to invest in the restoration of ancient cultural relics.Come on, there's more to come. The next room is the Ballroom.Look at the ceiling, it is the Italian architect Giacomo.In Quarenghiro's work from 1775, the British goddess controls the waves, and there she is, driving a chariot pulled by dolphins, and the black people on the frame pay her homage.The room was built by British architect Adam, check out the proportions here!window!Parquet floors!A unique space that cannot be built by others, never will.While there are people in this country who can buy the Duke of Dumbarton's estate and still have change lying around in their pockets, that means something good has disappeared from the world, and I really wonder why. Me too, Paul said: I know that feeling, I used to feel that way in Rome.Corruption and guilt of all kinds, the breakdown of true faith, and what a thing it is! Paul and she chatted enthusiastically about Rome and aesthetics, while I stared at the British goddesses on the ceiling, trying to recognize the themes and names.When we got back to the half-heated office later, Paul was dominating the conversation, he'd built bridges, and who wouldn't trust a clergyman in his priestly attire?After he explained the purpose of our trip, she said: So you have come all this way because justice has not been done?Are you following in the footsteps of this fellow Buscher, hoping to find clues that will lead you to the real murderer? You're right, Paul said: Do you remember anything about his visit? Oh, of course I do.I'm a little afraid that I may be too obsessed with the guests and talk too much, just like me and you, I'm really sorry.Yes, Professor Boothrow, formerly a professor at Brassnow College, Oxford University, and now teaching at a certain university in the United States, was accompanied by a young woman named Caroline.Rollei?Is it her name? almost.Do you remember what they were looking for? The woman thought for a long time, staring at the electric heater wires, they said they were looking for the history of the Dumbarton family, but I think there are other secrets.They often exchange glances with each other, you know what I mean?They didn't say much.Scholars I know are usually very talkative about their research topics, but Professor Buschrow and his assistants are notably not.But that's not my job, he has legal academic credentials, so I give them the key to the file room and go about my business.They stayed there all day, which is not easy, because the place is a mess, it has never been properly sorted, and the files have been buried in dust for years.I asked them if they found what they were looking for, and they said yes, thank you for my help, the professor also donated a sum of money to the trust organization to help restore the cultural relics, it was a hundred pounds, which was really generous, and then they left . Did they take anything? Are you saying they took the papers with them when they left?I don't think so.But they probably took a lot of papers, I didn't stare at them, and I certainly didn't search them when they left. That's when the phone rang, and it was a construction worker, so we thanked her and left. Back in the warm car, I asked Paul what he thought. I guess, he replied: They did find some papers, and Lori ran away with them.She seems to be a difficult character. I think so.So, bro, what now?We ran out of chips. Yes, this way does not work.He glanced at his watch.time flies.I suggest we go back to Oxford first, find a comfortable hotel for the night, pick up Quesetti in the morning, and drive straight to Aylesbury. do what?What's up with Aylesbury? Spring Hill Prison is one of the national prisons.I want to talk to Leonardo.Talk about Basco, a world-renowned forger of ancient documents.Mr. Brown, do you think we can put on a tracking show once we get there? No problem sir, I'm pretty sure some villain will reveal our destination to someone. Yes, there is a great deal of evil in this world.Paul said, with a flash of sly satisfaction on his face, I really wanted to punch him. oh and mr brown yes. Can you try to find a farm down the road?There are geese. So what, Paul?I asked him. Ha, we're going to see Richard.Brace fights one side.He said, but declined to disclose further information.That smug bastard. The Sixth Encrypted Letter (Part 3 of Fragment) After returning to George's Tavern and chatting late, Shakespeare murmured, I must regret killing someone, where should I find a monk at this time.Then he said: Richard, now we have sent two wretches to Hell, but there are many more places in Hell, and the devil will put them in barrels like hares.So when Mr Bigot hears of the fight, he'll send more and more till we're beaten.No, we must kill the root, which is Lord Dumbarton.Now we must seek help from forces higher than us. Unless we find a greater force, we will not be able to subvert a force like the earl.I am on good terms with the Montage family, they are good with the Howard family, they are all friends who believe in the old religion, and the French Howard is friendly with Lord Rochester.Everyone in the court must know the truth.He must take the letter and swear it is true, so that Lord Dumbarton will not be exposed and you will be saved.I asked: What letter, sir?He said: No, I should say two letters, one is a forged letter from Viry to you, pretending to be from Lord Rochester; the other letter you must write tonight , which should write down the ins and outs of the matter.So I wrote, my lord, the letter you are reading now.After he finished writing, he looked at it and drew some places to see if I should change it, but I said: no, because this is my own letter, don’t treat me as your puppet, this letter is very sincere, No drama.He laughed loudly, kept yelling please, please, and said to me: Brother, you can keep the original appearance, but this letter is written by a butcher I met when I was about to buy beef.I don't care if I wrote the letter or not. Then I asked him: Sir, can this letter really save us?Or do we have to do something else?He said: "I think this will save you, but I don't know my words.Why?Didn't you say that you have a very powerful friend?He replied to me: The world changes, and the ebb and flow are beyond my control.King Henry of France was killed a few days ago, and he was also stabbed to death by a monk. King James changed his mind again, thinking that it was a Catholic conspiracy.He appointed a fanatical Puritan as Bishop of Canterbury, and his men severely suppressed actors.I was under fire in the tabloids and no one dared to help me.The powerful friends of Meng Tezhen's family, as well as other big figures, are also declining in popularity. Their houses were originally preserved, but now they are also looking for ordinary housing.I said: But you still wrote the play.He said: Yes, I wrote it.It was as if a bound prisoner could still move and kick his legs once the shackles were removed.Oh man, did it ever occur to you, I thought that a show like this might never come out, ever.But because of the little excuse you gave me, the drama just kept pouring out of me.I know it's a fool's errand to write this play, but it's already done, so what?I said: must burn.He said: Yes, it must be burned.My work is very unorthodox.